


Rescue

by Whedonista93



Series: Refuge [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:09:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21899455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whedonista93/pseuds/Whedonista93
Summary: The royals of Erebor, fleeing their enemies, are rescued by an unlikely ally.
Series: Refuge [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1577527
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

Thorin hears the warg howl in the distance and breaks into a run, scooping Fíli up as he goes and prodding Dís, already carrying Kíli, ahead of him. Thorin hears the telltale pops of gunfire, feels a burning pain, and urges Dís to move faster, keeping himself directly behind her and Fíli tucked firmly against his chest. He sees an outcropping in the mountainside in front of them, promising caves with the potential of somewhere to hide. Behind him, he hears more pops, a grunt and a stumble, but doesn’t dare stop or turn, not with his nephew in his arms. They barely reach the cover of the rocks when shots start coming from the opposite direction. He covers Dís’ body with his own, pressing her against the rocks. Dís manages to poke her head over his shoulder and her agonzied wail confirms his suspicion that his brother-in-law had fallen behind him.

“He’s not moving.” Dís breathes against his shoulder. “Thorin, he’s not breathing.”

Thorin wraps his arms tighter around her. “Think of your boys, Dís.”

Dís buries her face against his shoulder, sobs wracking her body.

Thorin risks a glance up, tries to determine where the second round of shots is coming from. A slim figure leaps from the cliff face above them and lands in a crouch, back to them. They cast a brief glance over their shoulder and Thorin barely has time to register bright green eyes and delicate elfin features before they’re off again, running directly toward the pack of orcs on their tails, guns flashing in both hands. Thorin shoves Fíli into Dís’ arms and risks turning back toward the fray, hoping to get a better look at their rescuer. Definitely an elf, female if he’s not mistaken, dressed in heavy combat boots, dark cargo pants, and a tac vest over a long sleeved thermal, with an impressive amount of weaponry strapped to her person, and a long red braid streaming behind her.

His dislike for elves aside, he has to admit he’s impressed by both her skill and ruthlessness. It’s only a few short minutes before she’s picking her way back through the carnage toward them. She stops, at his brother-in-laws body, bends to check for a pulse, frowns, and rather unceremoniously throws the body over her shoulder before making her way back to them.

She stops a few feet from them. “We need to move. That was only a scouting party.”

Thorin scowls. “We don’t know you, elf.”

Dís swats her brother upside the back of his head. “She just saved our lives, brother.”

He glances behind him, sees his sister fighting back tears, sees his nephews clinging to her, eyes wide and terrified. He sighs, turns back to the elf, and nods. She sets off at a swift pace without looking back. Thorin lifts Fíli from Dís’ arms, nudges her forward after the elf, and takes up the rear.

They hike several miles through the mountain pass until they come to the mouth of a cave that’s invisible until they’re right in front of it. The elf follows a series of twists and turns until they’re deep within the mountain, in a much smaller cave with a few military-grade footlockers tucked against the far wall.

The elf maid sets the corpse across her shoulders down at the very back of the cave, infinitely more gently than she had picked him up.

Dís hands Kíli to Thorin and makes her way over, silent tears falling as she kneels next to her husband’s body. After several minutes, she collects herself and looks up at the elf. “We can’t take him with us, can we?”

The elf shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

Dís nods, shakily, laying a hand over his chest, tears falling again, speaking so quietly Thorin barely catches it. “He should be laid to rest in stone.”

The elf opens her mouth, closes it again, then kneels near his head and lays her hand on wall of the cave and starts speaking lowly in one of the Elvish languages - Thorin honestly couldn’t say which. The wall grows out and the floor grows up until the body is encased in stone. “Perhaps one day you will be able to come back for him, take him and bury him properly.”

Dís reaches out and grabs the elf’s hand, squeezes tightly. “Thank you.”

The elf squeezes back, nods, and stands. “We can’t risk lighting a fire, but there are sleeping bags and blankets in the footlockers. We can rest here and move on at first light. There’s food too, everyone needs to keep up their strength, we have a long hike tomorrow.”

“Where are you taking us?” Dís asks.

“To safety, Lady Dís.”

Thorin starts.

The elf smirks. “Surely you did not think I was in the middle of orc territory for the fun of it, Prince Thorin? I’ve been tracking you since you retrieved your sisters family.”

Thorin scowls. “You have me at a disadvantage.”

“I am Erthriel.”

Behind her back, Dís is scowling at him.

Thorin sighs. It goes against every fiber of his being, but at this point, they really have no option but to trust the elf - help is coming from nowhere else. “I’ll take the first watch.”

Erthriel goes to one of the footlockers and pulls out a spare magazine with one hand and draws a pistol from on her thigh holsters with the other. She reloads it deftly and holds it out, butt first, to Thorin. “You remember the way to the mouth of the cave?”

Thorin nods and turns to go.

Erthriel halts him with a hand on his shoulder. “Wait.”

He turns with a raised brow.

ShÍe holds out a pop top can. “Chili. Not the best cold, but better than nothing.”

Thorin takes the can, nods again, and winds his way back through the tunnels.


	2. Chapter 2

Erthriel pretends to rearrange items in the footlockers, trying to calm her nerves as much as trying to give the grieving family behind her a modicum of privacy. She disarms - reloads magazines and makes sure her blades are secure in their sheathes before stacking it all neatly atop one of the footlockers, out of the children’s reach, near the mouth of the cave. She pulls out two sleeping bags and rolls them out before she rolls up a couple blankets to serve as pillows. Finally, she pulls out a couple more cans of chili for Dís and her boys, and a can of rice and vegetable soup for herself, along with a few spoons.

When she turns, Dís is sitting, her back against her husband’s tomb. The older, light haired boy is sitting next to her, staring at the tomb, too much understanding in his eyes for one so young. The younger boy, dark haired and barely walking, is toddling around the cave curiously. She drops down on the sleeping bag nearest the cave entrance. “Food.”

Dís jerks. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”

Erthriel shakes her head. “You need to eat. Keep your strength up. For your boys, if not yourself.”

A guilty look flashes across Dís’ face and she stands, coming over to drop onto the other sleeping bag and reaches for one of the cans. The light haired boy trails behind her and sits close enough to lean against his mother’s knee. Dís pops open one of the cans and hands it to him with a spoon. “Eat, little one.”

The dark haired toddler chooses that moment to plow into Erthriel’s side. She chuckles and catches the boy before he can fall. “Well hello, _melon_. Are you hungry?”

He clambers into her lap.

Dís shakes her head fondly. “Fearless, that one. I can take him.”

Erthriel shrugs. “I don’t mind. As long as you don’t mind, of course.”

Dís shakes her head. “I don’t mind.”

“Will he eat chili?”

Dís nods. “His name is Kíli.” She pats the blond’s head. “This one is Fíli.”

Erthriel smiles at Fíli, then pops another can open and offers Kíli a spoonful. He eats the whole can, then snuggles into her chest and promptly falls asleep. She tucks him more firmly against her chest so she can make quick work of her own soup.

“He likes you,” Dís observes.

Erthriel smiles down at dark headed boy in her lap. “Children always do have a better sense about people than adults.”

“Why are you helping us? You said you were looking for us.”

Erthriel scowls. “I have been on your trail on and off since my _eitha_ of a cousin turned away when your people were burned out of their home by a dragon.”

Dís sits up straight. “Thranduil?”

Her expression darkens. “It was not right, what he did. He knows better than most the devastation dragonfire brings.”

“I mean no offense, my lady, but how can one woman do what an entire army failed to?”

“I can’t. I can never make up for his failure. But I can help you now, so long as you will accept it.”

“Thorin’s pride will never allow it.”

“But his love for his family will.”

Dís hums thoughtfully.

Fíli yawns and starts to sag against Dís’ side.

Dís wraps an arm around him. “We should rest.” She glances at Kíli, lightly snoring in Erthriel’s lap.

Ethriel smiles softly. “He can lay with me until I relieve Thorin of the watch. I do not mind the company… and I doubt all three of you will fit in one sleeping bag.”

Dís shifts into the sleeping bag and tugs Fíli up against her side before zipping it. “Thank you.” She glances over at her husband’s tomb again. “For everything.”

Ethriel tucks the snoozing toddler into her own sleeping bag and snugs up next to him, zipping it behind her, before closing her eyes. She wakes a few hours later and has to disentangle Kíli’s little fist from her shirt to free herself. He fusses momentarily, but calms when she tucks the sleeping bag around him. She stands and stretches, reattaches her weapons to her person, then snags her first aid kit from one of the footlockers before winding her way back through the tunnels. She’s met with cold blue eyes and tense shoulders at the end of them, but takes a deep breath and steps forward nonetheless.


	3. Chapter 3

Thorin tenses at footsteps from within the cave, and doesn’t relax much when the elf comes around a bend in the tunnels. She sinks down next to him gracefully, so close their thighs brush. He raises his brows.

She rolls her eyes. “Lift your shirt.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She leans forward and pokes his ribs, right where the bullet had caught him earlier.

He flinches back and curses in Khuzdul.

“Your sister may not have noticed, but I did.”

“She has a good excuse.”

“I never said she didn’t.”

“It’s nothing.”

She pokes him again, harder, apparently heedless of the blood the action puts on her hands.

He curses more vehemently.

"You have a diverging path before you in the woods, your highness. You can let me patch you up and I'll not breathe a word of your injury to your sister and we can on our way.  _ Or _ I go tell your sister you were shot and we see how long she can convince me we must hide in the cave while you heal. Either way," she shakes the first aid kit in her hand at him, "you get stitches."

He eyes her warily. “You swear you you won’t tell Dís if I let you tend to is now without fuss?”

She grins. “Cross my heart.”

He grunts and shifts forward just enough to shrug out of the left side of his jacket and slide his arm out of his left shirtsleeve. “Have at it, then.”

She scoots forward and slides calloused fingertips across his ribs. She winces, something like sympathy flashing across her delicate features. “The bullet was through and through. As long as it didn’t knick anything, this should be quick.”

“It didn’t,” he assures.

She raises a brow.

He shakes his head. “I have been shot before. I know my body.”

“Forgive me if I check anyway.”

She pokes and prods. He grunts and curses. She does make quick work of it, though, and he’s sore enough to allow her to help him back into his shirt and jacket with minimal grumbling. She stands and pulls him to his feet as well.

She grins down at him. “You’re rather tall for a dwarf.”

“And you’re rather short for an elf.”

She laughs brightly. “That I am. Go rest, master dwarf. We’ve a long day tomorrow.”


End file.
